


All That Bleeds

by aperplexingpuzzle



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: F/M, Fade to Black, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, but just a bit, but the rest is consensual af, implied gemplay, implied sadism/masochism, mild implied blood kink, some unwanted non-sexual touching at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12988632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aperplexingpuzzle/pseuds/aperplexingpuzzle
Summary: "No doubt about it, the hero was insane. Groose was also afraid he was in over his head." In which Link has a new weapon, and Groose doesn't trust the situation at all. One-shot, post-canon Ghiralink, Zelgroose (Grooselda?), Groose's POV. Cross posted on ff.net.





	All That Bleeds

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if I forgot to tag anything, but tbh it's pretty tame by ghiralink standards. Other people have done the post-canon GhiraLink thing before, but I wanted to take a shot. Enjoy! :)

The hero had gone insane.

That was the only explanation Groose could come up with when he first heard of Link’s new… _companion_. Then again, he first “heard of” him when he overheard Zelda’s shouts coming from Link’s cabin late one night accusing him of exactly that.

“Are you insane?” she yelled as Groose came bursting into the small house without bothering to knock. It took a lot to upset Zelda like this, and her furious voice held a note of anxiety that had Groose’s heart pounding. Anything that scared her this badly was worth taking seriously. “How can you possibly trust him after everything he tried to do to… to us?”

It was not hard to pinpoint the source of her fear, or the source of her ire—the one was practically draped on top of the other. Although he’d only met him once, Groose immediately recognized the tall, pale demon who had torn Zelda away from them just as they’d all thought the danger had passed, insulting Groose’s hair in the process. He stiffened, wishing he’d armed himself with more than just a dagger that morning, but the demon’s eyes only flicked towards him and rolled away in dismissal.

Zelda and Link didn’t even glance at the door, too intent on their argument to notice anything else.

“What should I have done?” Link’s voice was deceptively calm—he’d always been soft-spoken, when he chose to speak at all—but the tense set of his shoulders and his flaming cheeks spoke the true story. No doubt some of that flush came from discomfort. The demon had artfully arranged himself over Link’s shoulder, casually poised so each breath ruffled the fringe of hair tucked behind Link’s ear. “If I let him die, it would be no different from killing him.”

“You thought you _had_ killed him.” She spoke more quietly now, her expression pained. “He tried to kill us both. We would _both_ be dead right now, and the world along with us, if he’d succeeded.” It was a clear attempt to pull him back to her side as an ally, and the demon responded by leaning in even closer, curling a possessive hand around Link’s shoulder like a shackle. It made the hair on the back of Groose’s neck rise. He wished Link would pull away or punch him right in his smirking face, but aside from the slightest flinch and gritting of teeth, Link didn’t resist.

“Now, now, your Grace,” the demon said with a sinister chuckle that Groose remembered all too well. “You can hardly blame the hero for his _compassion,_ not when it almost certainly played a role in your choosing him in the first place _._ It is, after all, a value you once claimed to espouse.” He sounded far too amused with the situation for Groose’s liking… whatever the situation was. Groose still hadn’t puzzled it out.

“Ghirahim…” Link ground out warningly. To Groose’s surprise, the demon—Ghirahim?—subsided, though his dark eyes remained fixed on Zelda, dancing with the light of challenge.

Zelda took a deep breath. “It’s not Link’s… compassion I take issue with,” she said, her voice calmer now at the reminder of her previous incarnation, though it wasn’t without heat. “I take issue with him _binding himself to a demon_ just as we’re trying to convince people that the surface is safe for them to settle. How can I allow anybody to live here with a good conscience knowing that you’re strutting around?”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Groose blurted. Zelda jumped at the intrusion, whirling to face him, but Link merely tilted his head in acknowledgment. Groose had the uneasy feeling that there was little that went on around Link these days that he didn’t notice. “Link, _what_ did you do?”

“Simpleton,” Ghirahim muttered under his breath before either of the two could respond, pulling away from Link long enough to gesture dramatically at the kitchen table separating Link and Zelda. Groose started as he noticed a wicked black sword glittering ominously between them in the dim light of the fire. How had he missed _that?_ “Link was a swordsman in need of a sword, and I a weapon in need of a master. Surely even your dull intellect can figure it out.”

“Hey, watch who you’re talking to,” Groose said, face darkening. “What are you then, some kind of sword-man? Don’t look like it to me.”

Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Ghirahim turned away without deigning to respond, and Groose growled. Was this freak really going to be hanging around Link all the time now?

“You see what I mean?” Zelda said, pinning Link with her stare once more. “He doesn’t even need to be killing anyone to cause trouble. His personality is repellent enough.” Ghirahim’s eyes narrowed at her, and Groose prepared to draw his dagger.

“We’ll figure something out,” Link mumbled. For all he was the one defending the sword-man, he didn’t look too thrilled with the situation, either. “You’ll barely see us around. There’s too much to be done out there.” He waved his hand vaguely in a gesture that somehow encompassed the entire surface.

“But…” The anger had vanished from her voice completely now, and she bit her lip. “But I had hoped… maybe you would be around more often, eventually.”

 _Not anymore,_ she seemed to imply. Groose looked away, examining the black sword instead with feigned intensity. He’d already accepted that she was a lost cause, but it still hurt sometimes.

She sighed, ruffling the bangs around her face that were starting to grow out. “Isn’t there a way to make you reconsider?”

“I…” Link stared back helplessly, and Ghirahim _tsked_ in his ear.

“What Link is trying and failing to say is that the process has already been completed. Until the day of his death, Link is my master, and I am his _loyal sword._ ” His fingers curled, digging into Link’s shoulder, and Groose had the terrible feeling that he only thought he knew who owned who. That sword looked pretty big to Groose. Could Link even wield it? “The process is quite irreversible… unless, of course, he dies. Should you wish to murder him, know that you have my deepest sympathies, but I will have to intervene.”

“I don’t think that’s the only way,” Zelda replied steadily. “I bet destroying that sword would do the trick as well.”

“Ahh,” Ghirahim said, eyes alight with malice. “So you intend to begin your new reign with an execution?”

The room descended into awful silence, though Ghirahim alone seemed unfazed. The fire on the hearth crackled and hissed, casting strange wavering shadows across his friends’ faces. The pall of Link’s quest and the trials he’d endured at the Goddess’s hands had never quite lifted, no matter what he and Zelda tried to pretend, but now he could feel those old pains and divisions resurfacing.

“Perhaps not,” she said finally, her voice clipped and ice cold. “I do hope Link will think to _consult_ me the next time he makes a decision that affects all of us, but what’s done is done. Let’s go, Groose. Somebody has to see to the safety of our people now that the hero is… otherwise occupied. Any trouble that the demon causes is on his head now.”

Link’s face went white, and his lips trembled.

“Why can’t you just trust me?” he exploded, slamming his hand on the table, and Groose stared in amazement. It was the closest to a shout Groose had ever heard from him. “We worked on this together! I built half of these houses! Do you think I’d recklessly endanger it all over nothing?”

Zelda stared impassively for a moment before her gaze softened. “I trust… that you did what you thought was right,” she said with another long sigh. “But I can’t trust him, Link. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Ghirahim bowed to her, hand over heart, but the gesture was heavy with mockery. Groose growled under his breath.

“This is going to work out,” Link insisted, sparing a glare for the demon. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow right back. “I promise.”

“I guess it has to,” Zelda said softly. “Good night, Link. Ghirahim.” She gave the demon a curt nod. “I hope you prove me wrong.”

“Don’t even think about trying anything,” Groose added, glowering at the demon as he stepped aside for Zelda to pass. “I’ve got my eyes on you.”

“Do you?” Ghirahim murmured, before vanishing in a shimmer of diamonds, and Groose cursed. He’d forgotten that the freak could do that. “I assure you, I’m quivering.” The smooth voice spoke mere inches from Groose’s ear, and he jumped violently away.

“Gah!”

“Ghirahim, knock it off!” Link barked, and the demon chortled, melding into air once more to appear beside Link.

“As my _master_ commands.”

Groose’s last sight before regretfully pulling the door shut behind him was of Link meeting Ghirahim’s smirk with a fierce look and a finger shoved in his face.

“Do you think he knows what he’s doing?” Groose asked dubiously, still looking back. No doubt about it, Link was insane. Groose also feared he was in way over his head. A part of him wanted to storm back inside and bodily drag Link away from that creep. Who could say what was happening right now, behind closed doors?

“No,” Zelda snapped, then bit her lip. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe there was no other way. I just wish I knew what would come of it. I wish…” She faded off, and Groose nodded in unspoken agreement.

“Kind of a Link thing to do, though, isn’t it?” he said, staring up at the sky. The stars were out in full force tonight, sparkling just out of reach even to those who still dwelled in the sky.

“I guess it is,” she agreed unhappily. Her eyes were haunted, and Groose realized what had been hiding under all that fury: betrayal. Hesitantly, he put an arm around her shoulders, heart thumping when she leaned in.

Groose resolved then and there to keep an eye on the demon. He’d already done more than enough damage where Zelda was concerned. Link probably should have killed him… but then, Groose thought uncomfortably, he wasn’t sure if _he_ could have done it, had their roles been switched. Still, Link would need all the help he could get keeping everyone safe from that monster, and Groose was more than willing to step up. He might not have known a lot about magic swords and stuff, but he did know one thing: if Ghirahim caused any trouble around here, Groose was gonna _pound_ him.

* * *

It didn’t take long for rumor on the surface to spread, carefully crafted by Zelda herself. The hero had a new sword. 

Like his old sword, this one was inhabited by an ancient spirit. Unlike his old sword, this spirit was… a little mischievous. A bit unpleasant. He wouldn’t get up to any lasting harm, not with Link keeping a close eye on him, but it might be best not to speak to him… just in case.

Fortunately, the spirit seemed in no great hurry to interact with any of the townsfolk, either, preferring to slip into the overlarge sword Link kept strapped to his back whenever he was running his errands. Those who did catch a glimpse of him reported him as haughty and cold, dismissing anybody brave enough to wish him a cautious “good day” with a cool glance of his dark, cavernous eyes. It soon became clear that he would only deign to acknowledge Link and Zelda…. and oddly enough, Groose. The spirit gained some dark amusement by surprising him whenever he was least expecting it, appearing from thin air with a menacing laugh that never failed to make him jump. Still, it was all pretty harmless, even downright amusing at times. Groose did like to strut around as if the name “Grooseland” had actually managed to take hold.

 _Why_ did the hero have a new sword? …Zelda stared back wearily when asked, muttering something about Link being “too good for his own good,” so word spread that it was some great sacrifice on Link’s part. Who knew what kind of trouble such an unpleasant being would get up to without Link’s watchful eye? It was enough to satisfy most people, and the growing little town soon became accustomed to the strange new presence.

Groose refused to let his guard down, and not just because the demon seemed determined to make him look like an idiot. He knew that Ghirahim was nowhere near as harmless as the townsfolk seemed to think, even with Link keeping watch. It looked like Ghirahim could not disobey a direct order from Link—or at least, he had yet to do so as far as Groose was aware—but Link was strangely reluctant to give those out. Aside from a strict command not to cause harm to any of the former Skyloftians—or Hylians, as they were starting to be known, in honor of the goddess who had sheltered them—Link seemed content to allow the demon his freedom. He was being entirely too lenient in Groose’s opinion. Groose would have kept the sword spirit in an iron fist.

True to his word, though, Link wasn’t around all that much. Mapping the terrain, locating supplies, finding food and making friends with the land’s inhabitants… it all took time, and Link was often gone for a week or longer, stopping in for only a couple days to rest and consult with Zelda before he was off again, taking his nasty sword with him. It pained Groose to see the forced politeness between Link and Zelda every time they met, although the spirit watched it all with an enigmatic smile. But then, a small part of him couldn’t help but think, they weren’t so lovey-dovey these days, either. He wanted his friends to get along, of course, but maybe… just maybe…

Several weeks passed before Groose stumbled across Link and Ghirahim in a secluded clearing a good distance from the outskirts of the settlement. He almost went barreling in to stop them when he saw the two facing off, Ghirahim armed with a thin saber while Link held aloft the black sword, but he realized just in time that this wasn’t a true battle. Link was training.

It was the first time Groose had seen Link wield the ungainly sword. It should have been far too big for someone of Link’s small stature, but to Groose’s surprise, the sword looked just right in his hands. It had to be some kind of magic, he realized uncomfortably. He was not too fond of magic, especially where Ghirahim was concerned... but Link was obviously still struggling to use it. The weapon required two hands to wield, and the Knight Academy preferred to train its students with one-handed swords. His moves were slow and clumsy compared to the efficient grace he’d shown with the Master Sword, and he could never seem to whip it around in time to block Ghirahim’s attacks.

“No! You stupid child!” Ghirahim yelled in frustration as he lunged, breaking through Link’s defenses yet again to slice a thin line across his cheek. Link hopped back, wincing in pain, and Groose realized with a start that it wasn’t the only injury he’d sustained. Red slashes marred Link’s upper arms and even stained the side of his tunic, though Link ignored it all. Groose grimaced uneasily. That wasn’t how things were done at the Academy. “You half-trained lout! How did you ever manage to defeat Demise?”

“With a sword and shield,” Link growled back, holding up a hand to halt, and Ghirahim stepped back with an angry flourish. “Not this unwieldy… _behemoth_.” Wiping a thumb along the cut on his face, he glared at the demon, who matched his expression with equal ferocity.

“I think you will agree that I put up with a lot in this partnership,” Ghirahim said, ignoring Link’s incredulous splutters in response. “However, I will not hear you blame your own lack of skill on a blade you are barely worthy to die at the end of! That _shield_ of yours—” his lips curled around the word derisively— “was a safety blanket meant for children, and you have spent far too long cowering behind it. Master the sword, _only_ the sword, and then you will become a true weapon.”

“What’s the point?” Link asked, and the anger that lit up his eyes flickered and died. Without it, he looked forlorn. “Why are we doing this? There’s no enemy left to fight. The only things out there are stranded bokoblins and keese.”

“Why, Link,” Ghirahim said, straightening and giving Link an appraising glance. “I did not realize you possessed such… bloodlust.”

“What?” Link said, startled. “No, that’s… that’s not what I meant. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not what I wanted, but it is what I do. Except now… maybe it’s time to find something else.” Sighing, Link sheathed the sword, ignoring the intensity of Ghirahim’s gaze. “Maybe there’s just no purpose to this anymore.”

Ghirahim’s attack came without warning. Moving impossibly fast, the demon knocked Link to the ground with a viciously placed kick, flicking his saber to lay across Link’s neck. Dazed from the blow, Link could do nothing but stare, breathing in shallow gasps against the sword digging against his throat. He looked almost more startled than afraid.

With an angry yell, Groose surged forward… and ran headfirst into a diamond barrier that sprang suddenly into existence, trapping him within. He beat furiously against it, still shouting for help, though he realized with sick horror that they were too far away for anyone to hear. Ghirahim dismissed him entirely, planting a slim foot on Link’s chest and ignoring Link’s grunt as he leaned forward.

“If you are without purpose, I am without purpose,” Ghirahim said, almost too soft for Groose to hear. “And I will _not_ be without purpose. You think you have seen the entire world now, and righted all its wrongs? You have seen less than a sliver of the Goddesses’ creations. Travel further, learn from me, and I will show you a purpose. But don’t you _dare_ sheathe me like some useless trinket without value. You know why you accepted my bond in the first place.”

Their gazes clashed as if engaged in some unspoken battle, and it was Link who looked away first, nodding as much as Ghirahim’s weapon would allow.

“…Fine,” he said, “but we’re done for the day. Let me up.”

Wordlessly, Ghirahim stepped aside, offering a hand in assistance that Link ignored. Hauling himself to his feet, Link froze once more as Ghirahim leaned in close, examining the thin red lines that marred the hero’s skin.

“Nothing too deep,” Ghirahim murmured, a gloved hand brushing against Link’s jaw where his foot had made contact. Link winced at the touch. “This should all heal up nicely.” To Groose’s horror, an inhumanly long tongue snaked out to trace the path his sword had taken along Link’s neck. Link shuddered, crimson staining his cheekbones, and Groose banged against the barrier again.

“Hey, freak! What do you think you’re doing?!” he yelled, and Link jerked as if he’d forgotten Groose was there. Ghirahim laughed under his breath.

“A potion for you, master,” he said, stepping back and materializing a small bottle with a flick of his wrist, presenting it with a bow. “I know how eager you are to erase my little marks of affection, though I do hope you eventually allow me to leave something more… permanent.”

Link took the bottle and drained it, avoiding the demon’s hungry gaze, and after a moment Ghirahim snapped his fingers. The barrier surrounding Groose melted away just as the demon himself evaporated with a soft sigh of diamonds, slipping into his sword like a coward as Groose came running up.

Groose growled, punching his own hand regretfully. He had fully intended to deck the demon right across his stupid jaw this time… but his murderous expression faded as he approached Link.

“Hey bud, are you okay?” he asked anxiously, grabbing his shoulder. “Man, what a creep!”

Link nodded silently. His cheeks were still red with residual anger, but the potion was already taking effect. Even as Groose watched, the thin lines crossing Link’s skin faded and vanished, leaving behind light smudges of blood that Link wiped away shakily.

“Sorry I couldn’t help,” Groose said, suddenly awkward. “I tried to get him, but he did that whole shield thing and… sorry,” he finished lamely.

“He can’t kill me,” Link said abruptly. “You know that, right? I know how it looks, but I’m not actually in any danger around him, so… so don’t worry about it. Just let me deal with him.”

Groose was unimpressed. “And how far can he go without killing you?”

Link didn’t respond, and Groose was sure he knew the answer: as far as he damn well wanted.

“Link, why do you put up with him?” Groose exploded. “Why do you let him tou… treat you like that?” Reddening, he changed what he’d been about to say. “You could stop him if you wanted. I know you could.”

To his surprise, Link smiled, though it was lopsided and without humor. “With Ghirahim, you take what you can get, and pay for the rest. Besides,” he shrugged, “I need him as much as he needs me, and he knows it.”

“No.” Groose stopped, gripping Link’s shoulders and shaking him. “Link, you don’t need that creep.”

“I do,” Link said, eyes looking inward almost wistfully. “But it’s okay. I’ll see you around, all right?”

Ducking out of Groose’s grip—Link could be downright slippery when he decided to be—he jogged off, whistling hard for his Loftwing. The enormous red bird descended from the sky, landing with a rush of air, and Link vaulted onto its back without another word, taking off in the sky towards Skyloft. Groose watched him leave, confused and uneasy. He sure hoped Zelda knew what to do with all of this, because Groose was beginning to think that Ghirahim was more than Link was able—or willing—to handle on his own.

* * *

More weeks passed. The settlement grew bigger. The Hylians found to their delight that as time went on, the leaves in the forest surrounding them changed colors, green giving way to bright red and coppery orange hues. Less delightful was when the leaves fell altogether, and a permanent chill settled over the land. Zelda’s memories of her time as a Goddess were fewer than many assumed, and had more to do with magic and ancient wars than anything relating to mortal life, but the Water Dragon assured Zelda that this was all very normal and there was more of it on the way. At her advice, construction on the settlement halted, and the Hylians instead began fortifying what they had against the weather to come, stocking up on firewood and warm clothing and food to last them through the winter.

Link had been gone for longer than expected this time, and Zelda had taken to staring anxiously in the direction he’d set off in, though in reality he could have been anywhere. Groose had all manner of dark theories, each one beginning and ending with a pale-haired demon, but he didn’t share any of them with Zelda. She knew as well as he did the dangerous nature of the spirit Link harbored, and there seemed no point in discussing it. Instead they waited, drawing comfort from each other’s presence as the temperature dropped and Lake Floria slowly froze over.

One night, snow began to fall, and the Hylians gazed up at the sky in wonder. Each frozen crystal was small and deceptively light, but they quickly piled up on each other, blanketing the landscape in pure, sparkling white. It was beautiful and cold, and Groose and Zelda almost forgot their shared worries in the frozen calm… which, of course, was exactly when the settlement’s peace was shattered by furious dark diamonds that coalesced into a tall cloaked figure holding a smaller one in his arms.

“Find the Goddess,” Ghirahim demanded of the shocked crowd, and they immediately scattered in search of Zelda. Groose pushed up against them, angry and terrified all at once. Link’s unconscious form looked unnaturally still.

“What did you do?” he asked, voice shaking as he reached to take Link away from the demon’s grasp, but Ghirahim fended him off with a snarl.

“If you’re not the Goddess, you’re of no use to me,” he said coldly, and Groose’s expression darkened, but Zelda came running up before he could react.

“I’m here,” she said, rubbing her hands against the cold. From the look of it, she’d left her home so quickly she’d neglected to take a cloak. Her breath caught as she realized who Ghirahim held, and her voice sharpened. “What happened to him? What’s wrong?”

“Take us somewhere warm,” Ghirahim commanded, and she immediately turned to lead him towards her cabin, walking quickly. Groose followed behind at a jog, waving off anxious bystanders with the promise of news to come. “A moblin nicked his side with a cursed blade, and I did not sense its magic in time.”

“Have you done anything for him?” she asked, and Ghirahim grunted.

“Do I look to possess holy magic to you, your Grace?” he asked, but his voice lacked of its usual bite. Groose realized with shock that the demon was exhausted. His hair, which Groose had never seen with anything less than a perfectly smooth sheen, now looked dull and lightly tangled, and the circles under his eyes were dark with more than mere paint. “I dressed the wound as best I could, but a red potion would seal the curse inside him, and I know how squeamish you humans are about carving into each other. At any rate, it is not the cut that threatens his life. It is the magic.”

“How long ago did it happen?” Zelda sounded calmer than Groose felt, but her hands were clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white. No doubt she was going over every scrap of divine memory she had that might aid him. Groose just hoped it would be enough.

“The wound was obtained earlier this morning, but he did not collapse until late this afternoon.” Ghirahim glanced down at the man he carried with an expression that was not quite anger. “The fool boy pushed through it longer than he should have. He thought he was _tired_.”

“Then why are you only just now getting here?” Groose demanded. “Seems awfully convenient if you ask me. Maybe you can’t kill him, but if something else does then hey, that’s your job done, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Groose wondered if he’d gone too far. The air around him wavered, darkening with a rage that was almost palpable.

“You,” Ghirahim hissed, “are an _imbecile_ and an infant in the ways of magic. We were further from your cozy little home than your tiny little brain could comprehend. Traveling over such a distance is no small feat, even for me.”

“Enough,” Zelda said sharply, and the demon shuddered. The air returned to normal, and Groose gasped as if he’d forgotten how to breathe until that moment. It was a small comfort to see Ghirahim panting for breath as well, although his arms supporting Link were as steady and strong as ever. Maybe the journey had been as taxing as he claimed. Maybe.

Zelda opened the door to her cabin and stood aside for Ghirahim, who had to duck to enter. He settled Link almost gently across Zelda’s quilted coverlet, and she knelt beside him, slipping a hand against his forehead and wincing at what she felt. Ghirahim took up a position at Link’s feet, and Groose busied himself with lighting all of the candles in the room, if only to avoid looking at Link’s prone form. His skin was pale, almost gray at the edges, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. He shivered at Zelda’s touch, face twisting in pain, and Ghirahim’s jaw clenched.

“Well?” he demanded, voice strained, and Zelda’s eyes flashed.

“Patience, demon,” was all she said before her eyes slipped closed. Groose watched now, unable to tear his eyes away. For a long moment, he thought nothing was happening. The only sound in the room was Ghirahim’s harsh breathing, his intense gaze boring into his master’s gaunt face. Then Link shifted, muttering something unintelligible. Groose’s first thought was that the room had gone darker, but then he realized that the darkness only surrounded Link—or rather, the side of his chest where the wound was bandaged. The darkness gathered, pulling in wisps from all over Link’s body and shrinking in size until it was a condensed ball of dark violet that fought against the light. Gritting her teeth, Zelda gestured upwards with the hand that wasn’t touching Link, and the ball of darkness slowly peeled away, floating silently above him, still condensing and shrinking. Link struggled more, sweat popping out along his brow as the darkness shrank, wavered, shrank… and at a sharp gesture from Zelda, collapsed in on itself in a shower of golden motes.

Link arched his back violently before falling limply to the bed again, panting. Zelda’s eyes flew open, and she gasped.

“There,” she said, trembling as she withdrew her hand from Link’s forehead to rest against her temple. “It’s gone now. It was a close thing, but… I guess he was just stubborn enough to survive.”

Groose sank to his knees in relief. Already, Link looked a bit healthier. The gray tinge had receded, though his face was still pale, and his breathing was steady and slow.

Ghirahim, however, was not ready to take her word for it. Peeling off a long glove to reveal black fingers, he placed a hand on Link’s head with the same delicate touch Zelda had used. Groose couldn’t imagine what either of them were looking for, but Ghirahim nodded slowly as if it all made sense to him.

“Yes… yes, I think you got it all. He will live.” A tension Groose hadn’t noticed seeped out of him, and he straightened abruptly. “I leave him in your hands, then. You know the needs of a mortal better than I, and I must rest if I’m to be of any use.”

“Thank you,” Zelda said quietly, and Ghirahim stiffened in surprise. “For looking after him. If he won’t stay where it’s safe… at least he has someone to watch his back.”

Ghirahim stood silently for a long moment, contemplating Link’s prone figure.

“You are the one who created and discarded a hero, your Grace,” he said finally. “I am more than willing to pick him back up… but his eagerness to allow me to do so should never have come as such a shock.”

He left them with a metallic shimmer, and Zelda slumped forward with an exhaustion Groose hadn’t realized she’d been concealing, running tired fingers through the fringe of Link’s bangs. Groose placed a heavy hand on Zelda’s shoulder, and she leaned silently into his touch. For only a moment before addressing the crowd outside, they listened to the crackle of fire and the hush of falling snow.

* * *

By the time Link finally woke up several days after his dramatic arrival, Ghirahim was fully restored to his flawlessly pristine self. Unfortunately for Link, he wasn’t nearly so quick to recover. Outwardly, the wound had healed with only a bit of light scarring, but his body’s battle with the curse had weakened him more than he cared to admit. He was vague on where he’d obtained the wound, and Zelda didn’t press him, but she did insist on two weeks bed rest at the very least. Link disagreed vehemently, which put Ghirahim and Zelda in an incredibly awkward position for both of them: on the same side.

“Get off of me,” Link grunted at Ghirahim one evening. Zelda was bent over a steaming pot of pumpkin soup, while Groose examined the plans for expansion that Pipit and Karane had worked out together. The weather outside had turned vicious, pushing everybody indoors. Because Zelda didn’t trust Link to stay in bed for as long as her back was turned, she’d had Link’s bed moved from his cabin to hers. Groose had done the same with his, not enjoying the thought of Zelda and Ghirahim together with Link mostly out of commission, so the four were practically on top of each other in the cramped space. Or, in the case of Link and Ghirahim, quite literally on top of each other.

“Is that an order, master?” Ghirahim asked, idly flipping a page of one of Zelda’s books without looking up. Zelda’s expression as she stirred was so smooth that it had to be concealing a grin. It was beyond weird for Groose to see the demon doing something as mundane as reading, but then, he had a hard time picturing Ghirahim doing anything that wasn’t evil or violent.

“Ye— No—” Link muttered something angrily under his breath. “ _No,_ it isn’t. Just a request.”

“I see. Well then, I’ll happily oblige.” Ghirahim didn’t move a muscle.

“…Well?” Link asked impatiently.

“Well what?”

“Are you going to move?”

“Yes.” Ghirahim did not move.

“ _When?_ ” Link exploded, and Ghirahim appeared to consider the question.

“I believe ten days from now is what we agreed on, is it not?”

Zelda coughed, definitely hiding a laugh now, and Ghirahim eyed her sideways. With a huff, Link collapsed against the headboard.

“You have terrible taste in clothing and your sword is a toothpick.” Ghirahim grinned at him, exposing pointed teeth.

“There’s nowhere to go anyway, Link,” Zelda called from the kitchen. “The weather is dreadful. Read a book if you’re bored.”

“Or carve something,” Groose suggested. “You used to do that all the time, right? Make those little statue things? We have plenty of wood chopped up.”

“…Huh.” Link appeared to consider the idea, and Zelda shot Groose a grateful smile that warmed him to his hairline. Uncomfortably, he remembered that he’d actually made fun of Link for carving those statues back in the day, though he’d always secretly thought they were kind of cool. Groose’s brand of artistry was confined strictly to his hair, though in that arena he was indisputably a master.

After that night, the days passed to the steady sound of carving wood. Link made a little Kikwi for Zelda, which she accepted with a smile. Everyone knew how fond she was of the timid little forest creatures. He also made a Scrapper sculpture for Gondo, who had crafted the sheath for Link’s new sword free of charge, though there was considerable grumbling as he did so. Everyone was also aware of how much Link despised the scrap man’s mouthy robot. He carved a Loftwing in flight for Groose, staring wistfully out the window as he did so. Little chance of calling a bird down in this weather, even if he’d been allowed out of bed. Then it became clear what, or rather _who_ Link was carving for his next creation, and the true bickering started.

“You have my hair all wrong, sky child,” Ghirahim accused, leaning over Link’s shoulder and ignoring the dirty glare he got in return. Groose couldn’t decide whether the demon’s casual physicality bothered him more or less now that Link seemed not to even notice it. It wasn’t that he wanted Link to be constantly creeped out—he’d rather that Link put a stop to it altogether—but now it felt almost like Link had been trained to his touch, like a flighty Loftwing to a foreign handler, and that was its own brand of disturbing.

“Your hair’s just fine, it doesn’t have to be perfect—”

“ _Wrong_. It was your choice to try and capture my visage, and I will not allow my legacy to be marred by an imperfect rendering. Get it right or don’t try at all.”

“Okay, okay, fine! Look, I’m fixing it, see?”

“…Better. Much better. It seems you’re not so worthless after all once you apply yourself.”

“Thank you _so_ much.”

“Now fix my cloak.”

“What’s wrong with your _cloak_?”

If the touching had been all of it, Groose might not have minded so much. There were other oddities, though, tiny little things that pricked at Groose whenever he noticed. Things that bothered him, things that didn’t make sense.

Link had always been a person of few words. In fact, there had been a few brief years when they were all much younger when Link had refused to speak to anybody other than Zelda. He’d grown out of it eventually, speaking first to his friends and professors before finally snapping back at Groose himself one day, but Link had still remained a quiet person. Now, it seemed that Ghirahim of all people had managed to uncork his voice. It wasn’t bad in itself, except that sometimes Link opened his mouth and Groose could swear it was Ghirahim pouring out.

“ _There_. I regret ever starting this, but it’s done. Did I finish it to your satisfaction, _my lord?_ ”

Ghirahim surveyed the sculpture Link passed his way silently, turning it over in his hands. His face was impossible for Groose to read.

“I suppose it’s passable,” he said at last with a practiced sort of indifference, tossing it carelessly back. Link caught it, looking disgruntled. “I’m not entirely sure why you bothered. I don’t really care much for trinkets.”

“Oh?” Link looked it over himself for a moment, running a thumb along the tiny saber in the figure’s hand, before shrugging. “If that’s how you feel,” he said, and tossed it into the fire.

Ghirahim caught it, and Groose blinked. He hadn’t even seen the demon move. One moment he was splayed casually on the bed, the next he was snatching up the sculpture mere inches from the flames. He stiffened as he realized what he’d done, turning slowly to face Link, who watched it all with eyebrows raised.

“Interesting,” was all Link said, but Groose felt like throwing up. The smug smile that graced his lips was a mirror image of the demon’s own smirking face.

“They spend a lot of time together,” Zelda said quietly when Groose finally gave voice to his concerns, outside where prying ears wouldn’t hear. “It’s been just the two of them together for weeks on end. He’s bound to pick up a few… quirks.”

“I don’t like it,” Groose insisted, frustrated that Zelda couldn’t see the obviously sinister attempt to corrupt Link’s better nature. “It’s creeping me out!”

“Maybe,” Zelda tilted her head. If anything, she looked thoughtful—not what Groose was going for. “I see what you mean, but… I think it goes both ways. Keep watching, you’ll understand.”

“Hmph,” he grunted, dissatisfied. Ghirahim had gained a lot of points with her when he’d saved Link’s life, but Groose still wasn’t convinced. Laughing softly, Zelda wrapped an arm around him.

“You’ve been a good friend to Link,” she said, smiling. “Thank you.” And, standing on tiptoe, she pressed a kiss against Groose’s cheek.

Dumbstruck, he watched her walk away, humming a little to herself as she left. It was the clearest signal she’d ever sent him, yet he hesitated. After seeing everything Link had gone through to rescue her, Groose had given up hope on ever being the one to end up with Zelda. That was the kind of thing you just couldn’t compete with, after all… except he was pretty sure that nothing that came after had worked out quite like any of them expected. Still, he’d buried that hope away for so long. Uncovering it now was a vulnerable thought—what if it all went wrong?

It wasn’t until Link’s final night of “captivity,” as he had taken to calling it, that Groose saw what Zelda meant.

Zelda had long since fallen asleep. Her chest rose in deep, easy breaths that Groose tried his best to emulate, but thoughts of him and Zelda together danced behind closed eyes, refusing to leave him alone.

Despite the late hour, Ghirahim had yet to retreat to his sword for the evening. He and Link were arguing in furious whispers over yet another of Link’s carvings, and try as he might, Groose couldn’t block them out.

“It’s late, Ghirahim, just let me sleep. I’ll finish this later.”

“You’ve had two weeks to sleep, boy. I thought you’d be sick of it by now.”

“Yeah, but the thing about humans is that it doesn’t matter how much we’ve slept in the past. We still have to do it every day.”

“How tiresome.” Silence, aside from the soft scrape of knife on wood. “That’s not even close to resembling your face.”

“That’s because I can’t _see_ my face. It’s hard to carve what you can’t see.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you know what you look like.”

“Only sort of. I don’t exactly own a mirror.”

Another pause, shorter this time, and then: “You really don’t know your own face.”

“Not very well, no.”

“…Hand it over.”

“What? Ghi—hey! I was working on that!”

Curious, Groose risked a peek through lidded eyes. Ghirahim had plucked both wood and knife from Link’s hands and taken over the task himself, and Link’s initial protests died out quickly. For several long moments he watched the spirit in fascination as he worked, tiny wooden shavings gathering in the demon’s lap.

“…There.” Blowing on the wooden figure and brushing away stray shavings with a delicate touch, he presented it to Link. “Much better.”

“…Oh.” Link’s hands shook a little as he accepted it, peering down at it in wonder. “Oh, wow. This is…” Raising a hand to his cheek as if to confirm the accuracy of what he saw, Link shook his head ruefully. “You’ve really just been letting me fumble around with that knife all that time when you could do _this_?”

Ghirahim gave a low chuckle that for once didn’t sound sinister at all.

“Blades are my specialty, Link. Still, your efforts weren’t so terrible for a beginner,” he said generously. “They have a certain… rustic charm to them.”

“Okay, I get it,” Link laughed softly. “Now I just wish I could have done you justice.”

“On the contrary,” Ghirahim whispered. “It was fascinating to get a glimpse of how you see me.”

It suddenly occurred to Groose that Link and the spirit were even closer together than usual, if such a thing was possible. The fire in the hearth had almost died out, casting low, flickering shadows that obscured his vision. His heart started pounding, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen… was it?

“I see,” Link said, a bit breathlessly. He must have noticed it too, whatever ‘it’ was. “And is this… how you see me?”

“It is how you are,” Ghirahim said simply. “You do not require… embellishment.”

The two were nearly nose to nose now. All it would take was the smallest shift of a head, the slightest leaning in, and…

At the last second, Ghirahim bowed his head, resting his forehead against Link’s and glancing sideways—right at Groose. Too late, Groose closed his eyes.

“I’ll leave you to your sleep,” Ghirahim murmured. “Goodnight… master.”

With a whispering sigh, his form dissolved into the sword at the foot of Link’s bed, which glowed softly as he entered. Link stared blankly in front of him for a long minute before lying down, tucking his hands behind his head to stare up at the ceiling.

Groose couldn’t have said which of them was the first to finally fall asleep.

* * *

Spring was slow in coming, but come it eventually did.

Gradually, the days began to lengthen. The weather was not warm, at first, but at least it lost its frigid edge. Groose ducked outside his cabin one morning, stretching to get out the kinks, and was startled to find a colorful little songbird like the ones he’d first seen outside Granny’s temple what felt like ages ago. It was only a couple weeks later that the Kikwis all came tumbling out of the tree trunk they’d packed themselves into, blinking owlishly after a long winter’s sleep, and Groose knew that spring was finally there to stay.

With the arrival of warmer weather to the surface, the Loftwings were finally able to return. Friends and family who had been separated by the long winter reunited joyfully, speaking excitedly with each other over how they’d passed the time. The Skyloftians were awestruck by the foreign idea of winter and snow, though Groose was honestly kind of over the whole concept. He was much more excited by their newly minted plans for expansion, and for their first attempts at farming on the surface. The sky had a surplus of food, but it couldn’t support them forever, and Link had returned from his various travels with seeds that Kina had volunteered to plant, with the Mogmas’ help. Still, Strich and Cawlin were rapt with attention when he explained the strange frozen weather to them, and Strich at least expressed his interest in trying out surface life, just for a little bit, if only to see what kind of bugs he might find.

Groose tried not to tear up when Headmaster Gaepora finally descended to meet with his daughter, but it was a lost cause. Zelda clung to her father tightly, weeping as well, and even Gaepora seemed a bit choked up. Although she tried to talk her father into moving to the surface with them, he insisted that he was too old to uproot his life, and that Skyloft and the Academy needed him. Still, they enjoyed a pleasant evening of conversation and fresh fruit that had been lacking on the surface while abundant in the sky, and when he left, Groose thought that Gaepora looked at him with a great deal more respect than he had in the past. He hoped so, at least. He’d have to win him over eventually, if things with Zelda went the way he hoped. He thought they might, now that he was reasonably certain the path to her was clear.

Still, it seemed that nobody was happier about the Loftwings’ return than Link. Clambering on top of his enormous red bird as it tried its best to reach back and nuzzle him, Link took off with a whoop of sheer exhilaration, guiding his Loftwing through a series of risky dives and flips that Horwell definitely would have chewed him out over if he’d been there to see. His laughter was audible even from the ground below. Link may have been aiding the settlement efforts, but Groose thought he was born for the sky.

Ghirahim watched it all silently from below, staring up at Link with an impenetrable expression. Groose had seen that look cross his face before, but hadn’t known what it meant back then. He thought he had a much better idea now.

Ever since that snowy night in the cabin, Groose had been painstakingly careful to announce his presence whenever he came across Ghirahim and Link alone. The sword spirit had taken to rolling his eyes whenever he did this, while Link just looked confused, but Groose wasn’t taking any chances. He didn’t want Ghirahim to think he was trying to spy, or to see… he just didn’t want to see. When Groose eventually came upon them sparring in a clearing once more, his first instinct was to call out… but then he hesitated, stepping behind a tree instead and telling himself he’d definitely leave if anything started to… happen. He didn’t want to see, not at all—but he did want to know.

The hero’s skill had grown impressively since the last time Groose watched him, and he thought he had some idea now of what he and Ghirahim had been up to together during that long winter. Link moved confidently through each stroke of the sword, swinging the heavy blade like a twig and meeting Ghirahim blow for blow. The demon didn’t seem at all dismayed to find himself equally matched. On the contrary, his eyes burned with fierce excitement, his tongue slipping from between his lips and back again as if he were unaware of the motion.

“Much better,” he said approvingly, a grin curving across his face. Feinting forward, Ghirahim pivoted suddenly, swinging his sword unexpectedly from the side. Link caught it with his blade, forcing their arms up until their faces were mere inches apart. Smirk widening, Ghirahim’s tongue flicked out to caress his cheek, and Link gave a startled jerk. Jumping back, he raised his sword between them… and laughed.

“What, you’re bringing that into our battles now?” he asked, circling the spirit. “Doesn’t really seem fair.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ghirahim countered, matching Link pace for pace with a lazy stride. “It’s certainly come in useful during… other scenarios.”

“Agreed.” Link struck with a powerful swipe that Ghirahim jumped to avoid. Stepping back, Ghirahim rushed forward with inhuman speed, and Link didn’t dodge in time. The tip of the demon’s saber barely scored his cheek, and Ghirahim turned back to him triumphantly.

“First blood goes to me, I’m afra…” He faded off to see Link watching him in amusement, not even flinching from the sting. “You… you let me do that,” Ghirahim accused, sounding impressed and strangely husky.

“Two can play at that game,” Link shrugged. To Groose’s surprise, he deliberately sheathed his sword, eyebrows raised as if to measure Ghirahim’s reaction.

“Not your best move,” Ghirahim said, striding forward to rest his sword lightly against Link’s neck. “Without a weapon… you lose, sky child.”

“Do I?” Link stared up at him in challenge, slowly raising a hand to trace the shape of a diamond across Ghirahim’s chest.

Ghirahim shuddered, and the sword fell from his hand, dematerializing as it hit the ground. With a growl, he lowered his head, and the two locked lips in a shockingly intense kiss.

Groose stared at them, stunned even though he’d halfway expected it. It was not at all how he’d always pictured these things to be. There was nothing gentle about it. Ghirahim bit Link’s lip, hard enough to scrape the skin, and Link actually moaned, fist clenching against Ghirahim’s chest. Reddening, Groose was just starting to plan how best to escape unnoticed when Link pulled back, looking up at Ghirahim with wide, half-glazed eyes.

“Let’s call it a draw,” he breathed, and Ghirahim laughed. Lowering his head again, Ghirahim snapped, and the two dissolved together in a flurry of diamonds just as the demon’s other hand began clawing at the laces of Link’s tunic. That dark laughter could be heard on the breeze long after they’d disappeared.

Groose let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Well… well, he’d been right. Ghirahim _was_ a sick freak, and Link was in _way_ over his head, but neither of them seemed to mind that much, so maybe… maybe it didn’t matter in the end.

At least he knew for certain now that Zelda was absolutely free for him to pursue, if she would allow it.

Later, after he and Zelda had shared their own (admittedly gentler) night of kissing, he wondered if the Goddess had ever thought in her wildest plans that things would go down like this.

Much later, when Zelda wondered out loud where the scar across Link’s cheek had come from, Groose wisely kept his mouth shut.


End file.
